Left to Fate
by JulzPadfootMoony
Summary: Nobody else saw the struggle, the fight that was purely introverted, but Severus saw the signs. Nobody else wanted to believe, wanted to feed possible avenues of hope, but Severus was there, always. Watching, waiting, knowing. Implied SS/RL themes.


**A/N: **I'm not sure where this little plot bunny came from, but I usually don't fight with ideas when they come. I just listen, and let it flow. Thought I'd post it for kicks. Enjoy!

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**Left to Fate**

The soft light of the early morning sun filtered in through the high windows, just as it had every morning for the last six months. The clinically white room was spotless and smelt of cleaner and rubbing alcohol. The ward was not incredibly big, with only a few patients. Those that suffered injury from the war were often separated from those with injuries caused otherwise. That was why Alice and Frank Longbottom were in the Permanent Spell Damage – War Veterans ward, whereas Gilderoy Lockehart was not.

Some people considered it a great success that the War Veterans wards were emptying out as the months went by. Almost all of them were recoveries, not fatalities. But that option didn't seem viable for the unlucky souls who rested, unawares, in the Permanent Spell Damage ward. Most were Aurors, even a student or two from Hogwarts. But the patient who got, by far, the most visits from a vast variety of people was one Remus Lupin.

Presumed dead at first, it was on the insistence that all deceased be checked again for vital signs before being sent off to the morgue when this proved false. That was when Severus Snape found the extremely faint heartbeat of Remus, so slow and soft it would have been near undetectable by a spell cast with less force than his own. The same, unfortunately, could not be said for the werewolf's wife, who had lain unmistakably dead beside him in the Great Hall after the Final Battle.

Today was a special day. It was Remus' birthday, and all number of gifts, cards, flowers, stuffed animals, chocolates and well wishes flooded St. Mungo's mail room, with many a tetchy owl to feed. There were only a select few, however, that were actually allowed into see the comatose man on this particular day: Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Ron and Hermione Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, Andromeda Tonks, Severus Snape, and Teddy Lupin – the man's eight month old son.

Hermione and Ron had just celebrated their wedding, talking to the unconscious man and telling him how much they wished he could have been there. Harry was detailing how beautiful his fiancé, Ginny, looked in her Maid of Honour gown. Andromeda added in that everyone looked quite smashing, including Teddy in his adorable tiny dress robes. Severus had been at the wedding, after Hermione had threatened bodily harm if he did not attend, but he did not comment on a single thing. In fact, he never talked to Lupin during these visits.

No, Severus always waited until the rest of the group had talked their fill and bid the deep-sleeping man adieu until later. Teddy would uncomprehendingly cry; did the child really recognize and miss his father? And Harry would assure the infant that, someday, his daddy would wake again and be there to see him grow. But the conviction lessened each month, until it felt as though he were only saying it in habit.

Standing beside the well-made, comfortable looking hospital bed, Severus leaned over to sweep a piece of tawny-gray hair out of the man's closed eyes. "Will you ever, Lupin? Will you wake to watch your son grow? Merlin knows I have no idea how, but he seems to miss you. Will you wake for him? If not for your son, what will you wake for?" He would, of course, receive no answer.

The Healers still weren't sure what Remus had been hit with, what was causing him to remain comatose. No matter what healing spells, salves, potions, balms or poultices they tried, the werewolf would not wake. And the most curious thing was that he no longer seemed to _be_ a werewolf anymore. At least, he hadn't gone through a single lunar change since his hospitalization. It was as if he were caught in a perpetual stasis of some sort.

"The Healers are all in agreement that, if you should come out of this, the stasis will end and you'll go through some agonizing, accelerated shift, feeling every transformation that you haven't gone through all in one sitting. It will kill you if that should happen, most definitely. Will you ever wake, Lupin?

"The others are starting to grow sceptical. I think there's more to it, something no one else is seeing. What secrets are you shielding, wolf? What good is this half-life to you? Either wake and be alive, or go and die proper. Stop hanging in the balance. You test all of our patience. Soon, it will run dry. You son's tears will stop; he will not even know who you are. He'll only see an old man, withering away in a white room, and hear his Godfather tell him that, one day, you'll wake to watch him grow. But one day he will be grown, and there will be nothing for you to wake for. What then? Will you give in and finally die then? I should have let your heartbeat fade, for it would have been more merciful than this fate."

Then Severus would move the armchair provided very close to the bed, pull out The Scarlet Letter, and read aloud to the comatose man, who couldn't say if he cared for Severus' drone-like voice or not.

And then it would all repeat. Sometimes they would come one at a time, just to sit and stare for awhile, sometimes to talk. Harry was usually accompanied by hangers on, but occasionally he managed to find himself alone with the werewolf, and he would pour his soul out, as if the sleeping man had all the answers for him, if only he'd open his eyes and tell them to him. The day Harry had told Remus that they had laid a headstone for Sirius had been an extremely emotional one-sided talk, wherein Harry apologized no less than fifteen times for not waiting for Remus to awaken.

Sometimes Harry would become angry, demanding to know why Remus wouldn't wake, wouldn't open his eyes long enough to look at his son, who looked so like him when his Metamorphmagus abilities weren't obscuring his tiny features. He ranted and raved, telling the comatose man that the world was not going to wait for him, that _Harry_ wasn't going to wait. He was to be married soon, and after that would inevitably come children, and Harry just couldn't wait for Remus to be there for him. Then Harry would break down and apologize for everything he said, moaning that he needed Remus, that he was the closest thing to a parent Harry had anymore. But that was just it; he didn't have Remus anymore. No one did; only the eternal blackness that kept him so ensnared.

The first flutter of eyelids was written off as a muscle spasm; something that occurred often in comatose patients. The strengthening vitals were put up to random variations, shifts in a well rehearsed pattern. Nobody caught the first or even second twitch of fingertips and toes, but Severus had seen the third, and froze in rapt attention as he waited and waited for something, anything to happen again. The Healers said they were just more muscle spasms; quite common and not notable.

Nobody else saw the struggle, the fight that was purely introverted, but Severus saw the signs. Nobody else wanted to believe, wanted to feed possible avenues of hope, but Severus was there, always. Watching, waiting, _knowing_.

The first deep breath and independent movement of the neck and shoulders was the first sign the Healers finally recognized as possible recovery, though they were hesitant to tell Remus' loved ones, in case it was a false alarm. Harry had been too busy at his Stag party to receive the owl from the Healers anyways.

The first awakening, it was in the middle of the night, and no one was there, save Severus. He had been lightly dozing in the armchair when he heard the sharp intake of breath, the shifting of light-weight sheets. His eyes snapped open to meet confused, watery, beautiful amber orbs, so wide and bright, even in the dark of night.

The croak that escaped the man alarmed Severus. "Do not try to speak, Lupin. You've not used your vocal chords in some time. I daresay they'll need a bit of moisture. Here." He held cool glass of water to the man's lips; he drank it down slowly but completely, shaking the glass to ask for more. Once three glasses had been consumed, the man tried for speech once more.

"Sev – er – us." It was harsh and gravely, grating so hard it hurt Severus just to hear it. He took hold of Remus' hand, glad to find the man's grip moderately strong for someone bordering on muscle dystrophy.

"Finally awake, and only my ugly mug to greet you. Welcome home, Lupin," Severus said quietly, feeling his own pulse increase as the tiny corners of the man's mouth tightened and turned up just enough to be considered a smile.

Another glass of water was drank, and then Remus gathered enough strength to lift his arm and cup Severus' cheek with his cold hand. "Beau – tiful," he rasped, the tiny smile gracing his worn features once more.

Severus gulped around the sudden aching in his throat and sighed heavily. "Still blind as always, I see." Then he leaned down and placed a small, chaste kiss on Remus' chapped lips, and watched him drift to sleep once more. Whether he would ever wake again was left to fate.

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**A/N:** Kind of dark and hopeful all at the same time. I don't know if I had originally intended for it to end up SS/RL, but there it is. Thanks for reading, and please review and tell me your thoughts!


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